Plainly I wasn’t going to sleep until—and unless—Jamie came home, more or less in one piece. I lit the small brazier in my surgery and fed the infant fire with hickory chips. “Like a bloody Vestal,” I muttered to myself, but I did feel a slight comfort from the burgeoning light.

I’d already checked and refurbished my field kit, in case of emergency. It hung on its accustomed nail, by the door. I’d put aside the Merck Manual; I couldn’t settle myself to read.

Bluebell and Adso had both wandered into the surgery to keep me company; the dog was asleep under my chair and Adso was draped over the counter, his big celadon eyes half closed, purring in brief spurts like a distant motorcycle being revved.

“Thanks for small mercies,” I said to him, just to break the silence. “At least Jamie will never break his neck riding a motorcycle.”

He might never do a lot of other things, too …

I cut that thought off short and, reaching over the cat, started taking bottles and jars out of the cupboard in a determined sort of way. I might as well take inventory: throw out things that were too old to be pharmaceutically active, make a list of things we needed next time Jamie went (yes, he will too go!) into a town, and maybe grind a few things, if only for the sake of pretending I was grinding Charles Cunningham’s face … or maybe the King’s …

Bluebell’s head came up suddenly and she gave a small hurf! of warning. Adso instantly uncoiled and leapt on top of the tall cabinet where I kept bandages and my surgical implements. Clearly, we had company.

“It’s too early,” I said aloud. He’d left the house no more than an hour ago. Surely nothing could have happened yet … But my body was far ahead of my thoughts and I had reached the front door before I completed that one. I hadn’t barred it after Jamie left, but I had shot the mortised-bolt lock and opened it now with a sharp, decisive thunk! It didn’t matter who had come to tell me what. I had to know.

I was startled, but not truly surprised.

“Elspeth,” I said. I stepped back, feeling as though I did it in a dream.

“I had to come,” she said. She was white as a ghost and looked exactly as I felt—shattered.

“I know,” I said, automatically adding, “Come in.”

“You know?” she said, and her voice held both doubt and the horror of realizing that there was no doubt left.

I shut the door and turned away to go to my surgery, leaving her to follow as she liked.

Once we were both inside the surgery, I dropped the heavy quilt that still served me as a door, sheltering us from the night. Bluey was on her feet, just behind my knee, and was growling in a low, menacing sort of way. She knew Elspeth and normally would have gone to her for a friendly sniff and pat. Not tonight, Josephine, I thought, but said, “Leave off, dog. It’s all right.”